


Nuisance

by mildlyproductivetrashbag



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Rare Pairing, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9419438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mildlyproductivetrashbag/pseuds/mildlyproductivetrashbag
Summary: Sam died when he confronted Dean in the bar. Now all that's standing between Demon!Dean and the rest of the world is Castiel. Well. not quite. There is still the King of Hell. He could help, that is, if he actually wants to in the first place.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: So, this. I find it a lot easier to write one-shots for Castiel than for any other character in my fandoms. Not really sure why. Add to the fact that he's so incredibly shippable with 80% of the SPN characters, and thus this one-shot was born. Hooray :) I might add something to this, but not yet sure.

Crowley was bored. Completely, utterly, _bored._ He’d spent the last six hours listening to the reports and complaints of various demons, and he wanted out. It was times like these that he honestly questioned his decision to rule hell. He was going to go insane at this rate. If he didn’t die of boredom first, that is.

At the moment, some demon named Philip was delivering a report on above ground forces. Apparently, there was a sudden spike in deaths in the last place he left Dean. It could just be a coincidence. Then again, when was it ever just a coincidence. There was a high chance that Sam had failed. He failed to restrain Dean, as Crowley had expected. That incompetent fool. It was worrying. There goes his Plan B. Time for Plan C, whatever that was. He motioned for Philip to leave, but the doors burst open just as he was about to turn around.

“Crowley!" Castiel stood in the doorway. He held an angel blade whose metal was smeared with blood. Demon blood. He didn’t want to know how it got there. However, he did want to know how Castiel got into Hell. Ever since the stunt that Sam had pulled with Hell’s backdoor, he had tried to close all other potential entrances into his domain. Unfortunately, it seems that all the work he put into those endeavors were wasted. An _angel_ , of all things, had apparently gotten through despite all his precautions. Brilliant.

“Ah. Look at what the cat dragged in.” He smirked. “Hello Castiel. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Before the angel could reply, Philip lunged at him. With an almost indistinct sigh, he sidestepped and jabbed his elbow into the demon’s back as he passed. The demon fell forward for only a fraction of a second, but it was just enough time for Castiel to drive the blade in between his shoulder blades. A flash of red lit up the demon’s body. He slumped forward and fell to the floor, dislodging the blade in the process. Castiel kicked the body aside without a word. He focused his attention back on the King of Hell. With a long-suffering sigh, Crowley gestured towards the body. “Honestly, that was completely unnecessary.”

“He attacked me first.” Castiel pointed out.

“That’s not the point” He rubbed his temples. “As much as I simply adore your presence, you can’t just waltz in here and kill my subjects left and right."

“I don't have the time to spare your demons, Crowley. I am here for one reason only. You.” The angel’s gaze was intense. It felt as if he was trying to stare right through him.

“So straightforward. You should at least offer to buy me a drink first." Castiel stared at him blankly and he rolled his eyes. "Alternatively, you could have one with me.” He snapped his fingers and conjured two bottles of alcohol. He held the bottles up to him. “Pick your poison. Whiskey?” He held up the bottle in his left hand. “Or maybe you’re more of a scotch type, hm?” He held up the one in his right.

"Enough! I do not want anything you offer Crowley. I didn't come here so you could make fun of me.” He glared at him.

“Fine. Suit yourself.” He shrugged and placed the bottle of scotch on a small table beside his throne. “So, why are you here?” He poured himself a glass of the strong alcohol and glanced at him. “As you’ve reminded me twice, you’re not here to have a chat.” Downing the glass of scotch, he stood up. “What menial task or favor do you want to demand from me?” He asked bitterly.

“I need your help to stop Dean.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. Sorry to disappoint, but I can’t help you.”

“What?” He asked sharply. “Don’t tell me that you can’t help.” He glared at him threateningly and advanced forward. “It’s all your fault that this happened!” He yelled, and jabbed his finger in Crowley’s direction. “Sam _died!_ You led him to his death! You don't have the right to say no!”

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” He scoffed and raised his eyebrows at Cas. “You and I both know that you can’t.” He turned aside and began to walk away. He could practically feel the other's hatred. In an unexpected burst of movement, the angel lunged forward and slammed Crowley against the wall. The demon dropped his glass and it shattered on the ground. Castiel held the angel blade against his neck while his other hand was placed flat on the wall above his head. Crowley smirked dangerously and whispered, “So you like it rough, huh angel?” He stared right into those captivating blue eyes.

“Enough,” He said, his voice gruff. “Do not underestimate me Crowley. I will not hesitate to end your life, if needed.” He pressed the blade against his neck with just enough force to break the surface of his skin. A drop of blood slid down his neck and stained his shirt.

“Castiel…” His throat felt dry. They were close. Too close. One wrong move and he could... Why was he thinking of that? Where did that thought... He bit his lip and banished the thoughts to the farthest reaches of his mind and turned his focus back onto the matter at hand. “Don’t underestimate me either.” Crowley had his own weapon in hand, its blade pressing dangerously against Castiel’s abdomen. He had somehow managed to grab his weapon and put them in a stalemate. With a dangerous smile, he pushed the blade further against the angel’s body. “Bit of a problem we have here, isn’t it?”

The two kept absolutely still. The silence was overwhelming. Their heavy breathing was the only thing that broke the stillness of the room. They glared at each other, both refusing to back down. Eventually, Castiel huffed and drew back his blade. He stepped away and slipped the blade back into his sleeve. Crowley brought his hand up and held his neck. Thankfully, there was no other injury other than the small cut he received. He brought out a handkerchief and wiped away any trace of blood.

“You really are desperate” he remarked as he stood up and walked over to the source of his annoyance. “Not a lot people have the guts to threaten me, much less attack.” He shook his head slightly and chuckled. “But of course you’d be the exception. You’ve got a penchant for being original.”

“Crowley, please.” The angel’s voice had taken on a very different tone. “Every second I spend wasting my time here, Dean remains a demon.” His eyes were pleading with him. He could almost feel sorry for Castiel. Almost. “Well, what do you want from me? In case you didn’t know, the last time Squirrel and I were together, it didn’t well. “

“I need your help to restrain him. I have the cure, and I can help him. But I can’t do it alone. I need your help,” he persisted.

He scoffed. “My help?”

“Yes,” he replied.

Crowley hesitated. He shouldn’t do this. It would just endanger him. This shouldn’t have even been a choice. It would be so easy to say ‘No’. To simply walk away. But he couldn’t. Not when Castiel was right in front of him, begging for his help. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t refuse. Those irritating blue eyes were staring right at him, and he just couldn’t bring himself to say no. Damn him. “Fine," he said. Castiel looked stunned, as if he hadn’t expected him to actually accept. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Crowley brushed past him and buried his hands in his coat pockets. He refused to look back and simply kept walking. He didn’t expect the gentle touch on his shoulder just before he went through the doors. He turned around and scowled at the angel. “What, are we going to stand here all night while staring soulfully into each other’s eyes?” Sarcasm dripped from his every word. He began to regret his decision to agree to this idiotic endeavor. Crowley expected the angel to snap at him with some dull reprimand. He certainly didn’t expect to be greeted with gratitude.

“Thank you for this.” Surprisingly, it was genuine. There was no hint of mockery or sarcasm. The dolt was actually being sincere. It was kind of endearing, in a way. “I- Well- Well I couldn’t just leave unfinished business," He replied. “Just promise me that the moment this is all over, we go back to loathing one another.” He grimaced. “No offense, but I don’t think I can handle having another bestie.”

“Agreed,” the angel said, as the corners of his lips turned ever so slightly upwards. Together, they walked out of the room.


End file.
